Words Don't Come Easily
by Kira the Great
Summary: Sequal to English 34 implied


Note: Well…if you must know, I was turned down, though politely. The senior was busy with a previous engagement. I didn't bother to ask him out again because it was a few weeks to graduation and meh, it was too much trouble.

Sequel to English

Words Don't Come Easily

My drink is hot. I take a sip and my eyes slip to the winter out the window. Snow drops form the skies. It doesn't drift here, it drops. Apple cider, hot, cinnamon stick to stir it with…the best kid of cider.

Quatre walks by the window and stops to wave at me. I wave back. We're good friends, at least since we met last semester in English class. He's a freshman and I am a sophomore. For a freshman he's done well. I think the only reason I passed English last semester was because of our weekly discussions at the coffee shop.

The bell rings and he comes in, taking his seat across from me. "Hi, Trowa!" he says, and I can smell winter on him—crisp, cold, fresh. It suits him; the white snowflakes in his pale blonde hair, his white earmuffs like giant fuzzy snowballs. I can't help but smile.

"What's so funny?"

"Your earmuffs," I say. "When did you get them?"

He takes them off and sets them on the table between us. His cheeks are rosier than when he walked in, and I wonder if it's from the cold.

"They're my sister's," he admits. "I lost mine."

I nod and take a long drink of cider to hide my grin. "They don't look bad."

His aqua eyes query me and he looks confused. "But they don't look good?"

"They're…amusing."

_Amusing_ wasn't the word I should have used. He looks away and says softly, "I'll go order my tea, then. Excuse me."

I set my cider down, confused. Had I just insulted him? I wouldn't have thought so, but then again, I'm not very good when it comes to relationships. Quatre has a great deal of friends; Duo, WuFei, Relena, Dorothy, Lucrezia, Zechs, Une…even Heero, the stoic boy in our physics lecture, is his friend. I, on the other hand, keep to myself, and only since late, to Quatre.

I like to think that I trust him, and that he trusts me.

He returns and sits down with his green tea and jasmine. I shift awkwardly in my seat, and he does too. Silence breaks between us, draining away the warmth of the café. I stir my cider silently, gazing at the cluster of cinnamon on the bottom of the mug, swirling amongst the amber liquid.

He drinks his tea without much pause to keep from feeling awkward.

I don't know how to apologize, I must admit. It's hard for me—I like to think myself flawless. But, here is the exact example of my flaws. This gentleman, this sweet, kind boy who has become my friend…I have insulted him, and though I think we both hurt, I cannot bring myself to apologize.

Finally, the words come, but not from me, "Why are they amusing, Trowa?"

Even when he's upset, he says my name nicely. I reply slowly, "Amusing wasn't the right word…" I can't say that I'm sorry. I just can't. But I can admit regret.

"Then what is?"

"I suppose…they're…" I eyed them, seeing a twisted headband and two white balls of fuzz. They weren't _amusing_, they weren't _obnoxious_, and they weren't _cute_. They were, without a doubt, very _Quatre_ though. Finally I say, "They suit you."

"Am _I_ amusing?" he asks in disbelief.

I can't help myself—I give a little smile. He is amusing, especially now, as it dawns on me how ridiculous this argument is. We aren't even dating, and he's acting as though I've insulted his mother. "Sometimes, yes."

He frowns and I tell him the truth, "Quatre…you know better than anyone what I mean. I'm not trying to insult you. Words don't always come easily. As for the earmuffs? They suit you. They are, without a doubt, absolutely _Quatre_ in every way."

"Every way?" he asks, his voice soft but cool and demanding. He stirs his tea with his spoon.

"Soft," I say. I look down at my own drink, but look up again in sincerity, "Pure, light, warm…all of these are redeeming qualities. I don't understand why you're so upset."

"You called them _amusing_, like you were laughing at me."

"I wasn't laughing at you," I reply. "I merely said what came to my mind first."

Still, he frowns. Still, he's upset.

"If you want to be upset over a pair of earmuffs, be my guest," I say finally, "but I don't like the thought of losing such a good friend over head-wear."

Quatre looks away, ashamed. He thinks this over and finally returns his eyes to mine. At first I think he's going to stand up and leave right there, and cold fear grips my chest and body. _Did I just make another mistake?_ But, no.

Relief washes over me when he smiles and begins to laugh. "Wow," he says, "I never realized it…okay, okay, you win."

"Win?"

He shakes his head. "I guess I can see where you're coming from…it's just…well…" his face tinges pink and I wonder why. "Well, it's nothing."

"Nothing is something," I say.

He looks up at me and replies softly, "Like you said before, words don't always come easily."

His teacup is empty, and my mug is half-full. He leaves the café and I stay, watching as he walks away out the window, and I can't help but feel I've managed to miss something.


End file.
